


sing of what's lost to you

by orphan_account



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Loss of Identity, Lowercase, Post-Canon, written during a depressive episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: eurydice, after
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	sing of what's lost to you

it’s always hot in hadestown. the lights glare overhead and the furnace blazes, suffocating them all with a thick blanket of heat. it would make her feel nauseous, if she could still feel things. but the way things are now, she just sighs and wipes off her brow before getting back to work. king hades wants this section of the wall built today, and she’s heard the stories of what happens to people who don’t live up to the boss’ expectations. she’s determined not to become one of them. a voice inside of her whispers,  _ would anything really be worse than being here _ . she ignores it.

the thing is, she can’t shake the feeling that things were different once. not in hadestown, where each day is a dreary trudge to the next, but before, back when she was a person. she knows she must have been at some point, everyone here was. sometimes when she closes her eyes, she thinks she can almost remember what it was like.

she remembers a boy with eyes that shone with delight, full of hope. she remembers him holding a flower, red, but a softer red than blood. she remembers the boy opening his mouth to sing, a song so beautiful it cut through the world. and she remembers the song dying on a dark, lonely path, the boy reaching out for her moments before she disappeared. 

in those moments when she  _ can _ remember, she wonders who the boy was. she thinks he must have been someone important to her, and she supposes that she might have been important to him as well.

she feels eyes on her and lifts her head, knowing exactly who it is. nobody here looks at each other, it’s not worth the effort to. nobody, that is, except for  _ her _ .

“my lady.” she says, her voice is raspy and worn out. she realizes that she had been unconsciously singing along to the chant.  _ keep your head low _ , it goes,  _ if you want to keep your head _ . it’s their reminder to themselves. trying to make a scene, to challenge the way things are, only ends with a fate worse than hadestown. although she can’t imagine what would be worse than this hell of her own choosing.

“eurydice,” lady persephone replies. the word sparks a flicker of recognition in her, but she can’t tell why, “are you okay?”

she blinks a couple of times. she’s not sure what okay  _ means _ . lady persephone laughs but there’s no humor in it. “i’m sorry, that was an idiotic question.”

“do you require anything, my lady?” she asks, confused about why lady persephone is here in the first place.

“no,” lady persephone speaks softly, as if talking to a child, “i just wanted to talk with you, eurydice.”

“what does that mean?” she shouldn’t be asking this, but she has to know.

“what?” lady persephone looks confused.

“eurydice,” the word rolls off her tongue easily, like she’s said it many times before, “what does it mean?”

a sad look enters lady persephone’s face. she is silent for a while before responding. “tell me, does the name ‘orpheus’ mean anything to you?”

there is a sharp pain in her chest suddenly. she winces and clutches at it, surprised. she’d been unaware that they could feel pain down here. the boy’s face pops into her head. she wonders if that’s him, orpheus, the one she left behind. she wonders if the reason her chest is hurting now is because her heart is trying to leap out of it and join him up above.

“i-” she says, trying to remember more about the b-  _ orpheus _ , the only link she has to the person she was before she was a worker. her head aches as she thinks, thoughts and memories slipping away like sand through fingers. she wonders if this is the magic of hadestown or if the fault simply lies with her.

lady persephone is there then, laying a hand on her shoulder. she recoils away from it, feeling scalded by the touch. lady persephone looks surprised, but doesn’t try to touch her again. “i have something for you.” lady persephone says. she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a flower, red, but a softer red than blood.

she stares at the flower, feeling frozen to the spot. lady persephone gently lays it in her hand before stepping back. “i’m sorry.” lady persephone says the words like a judge might bang a gavel, sealing the sentence. a second later, she’s gone.

the flower seems to burn in her hand. it doesn’t belong here, this spot of color in a world of grays and blacks. she doesn’t dare to let it go, it is all she has left. a bead of sweat falls off her forehead, landing on a flower petal. the sight stirs her from her silent reverie. she tucks the flower into her pocket and gets back to work, hoping that the distraction hadn’t caused any noticeable delay. the rhythm of hadestown resumes and she is a part of it.

what could be an hour or a day later, she reaches into her pocket and finds it empty. she tries to shrug it off, not quite remembering what was supposed to be there. but when she puts a hand to her face, it comes away wet.


End file.
